


A Night Out

by DualWieldingCousland (DualWieldingMama)



Series: Starting Over [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-14 01:28:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4544946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DualWieldingMama/pseuds/DualWieldingCousland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair gets conned into meeting Zevran for an evening out.  Since it's "their" Friday, he invites Regan.  It's ... an experience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night Out

**OCOUSLAND:** You need to get out more

**RCOUSLAND:** I get out every day, Oriana

**OCOUSLAND:** Taking your dog for a walk does not count as ‘getting out’ and you know it. You’ll never meet any new people if you stay locked in your apartment.

**RCOUSLAND:** I’m fine, Oriana, really. I have a standing engagement outside this apartment, every other Friday.

Regan sighed, shaking her head. She knew her sister-in-law meant well, but it was always the same old conversation. Ever since her parents … died, Oriana had nearly smothered her with concern. While the woman’s original intent had been nice, the near constant reoccurance was one of the driving motivations to move to Denerim.

**OCOUSLAND:** Your brother didn’t want me mentioning it, but he and some of your … his … your all’s (?) friends are driving to Denerim this weekend to celebrate. Dairren finally proposed to Iona.

**RCOUSLAND:** Good for them. They’ve been together for a while now.

She waited, knowing full well what would be coming. Such conversations probably weren’t the _best_ use of the company’s IM system, but it was really the only chance the two of them had to talk.

**OCOUSLAND:** Didn’t you and Dairren date? Before he took up with Iona, I mean.

And there it was. She was glad no one could see the expression on her face. Oriana, at least, would have taken offense. She had gone out on exactly _half_ a date with Dairren, at her brother’s insistence. They had been such good friends that Fergus couldn’t fathom the idea that them as a couple wouldn’t work. They hadn’t even made it through the appetizer before deciding to scrap the _date_ aspect and just hang out. She’d even been the one to convince him to ask Iona out.

**RCOUSLAND:** Once … we went out once. He’s not my type, and I’m not his. He makes a much better boyfriend … fiancé (Maker, that looks weird) for Iona.

**RCOUSLAND:** Gotta go. Have a conference call in five. Let me know if you need me to watch Oren next weekend, so you and Fergus can do date night things.

She set her IM to busy and plucked the headset from its hook. One of the best things about working from home was the ability to attend meetings without actually having to _see_ people or go anywhere. She dialed in, pulled up the linked screen-share, and lost herself in the mundane drone of numbers and orders and progress reports.

 

                                (Meanwhile, at Denerim’s Mall)

“What do you mean ‘we never go out anymore’? We’ve _never_ gone out, Zevran.”

Alistair dragged his hand over his face, pulling his features in odd ways, frustrated. He’d known Zevran Arainai for a couple years now; met him when he first joined mall security. The Antivan worked in the mall’s main office, answering phones, fielding complaints, helping out Wynne, the security dispatcher, when she needed a break. He was an awful flirt, hitting on anyone with two legs, though Alistair had a feeling he never … or at least rarely … ever followed through with anything.

“Exactly my point, my friend.” Zevran slid a flier across the counter before turning back to the desk to answer the main phone line. He looked back over his shoulder and mouthed “we should go”.

Alistair rolled his eyes and picked up the laminated paper. Bright white words practically jumped off the page, proclaiming a night of fun and surprises … a night of ‘suicide karaoke’. “Suicide karaoke?” Really, Zevran?” Alistair just shook his head at the idea. He’d never even _heard_ of such a thing. Why would he want to go?

“Do not knock it until you’ve tried it, my friend.” Zevran hung up the phone and slid back over, plucking the flier from Alistair’s hand. “I am … well aquainted with one of the lovely ladies who run the event, and she assures me it is an … experience.” He neglected to mention that he could be considered a … regular at such events.

“How does it even work?”

Zevran chuckled, leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the counter. “You go, you sing, you have fun. That is what karaoke is about, no?”

“So what’s the suicide part?” He _knew_ Zevran was playing with him; didn’t mind it as much as he pretended to. He had only a few friends he actually enjoyed spending time with – hanging out and shooting the shit and all that.

“ _That_ is where the real fun lies.” Zevran dropped his feet to the floor, leaned forward and rubbed his hands together gleefully. “You write your name on a slip of paper … as many as you like. The more times your name is put in, and drawn out of the hat, the more times you sing. _Then_ , you write song titles – they have a _very_ large selection, on other slips … again, as many as you choose. Then, one of the two lovely ladies draw a name _and_ a song … and if your name is chosen, you sing whatever song was pulled out.”

“But … what if you don’t _know_ the song?” The idea of having to get up in front of _anyone_ and sing made him nervous enough, but to have to sing a song you didn’t know? A nightmare.

“That is why they have the words on the screen.”

Alistair sighed, looking over the flier again. It might be nice to get _out_ for once. Then he noticed the date. “Friday?” When Zevran nodded, he pursed his lips, wondering …. It was ‘Regan’s Night’, which meant they’d be watching movies at her place, like they did every other Friday for more than three months now; ever since she’d moved in. They had had such a good time that first Friday that she’d asked to make it a regular thing, alternating apartments so it didn’t feel like she was taking advantage of him. But, maybe she’d be willing to go hang out somewhere else, just this once, maybe make some more friends. “Can I bring a friend?”

“The more, the merrier.” Zevran grinned, making sure Alistair picked up the flier. “I will meet you and whomever you bring along, there.” He pointed to the address on the flier with a slender finger. “Several of your coworkers should be joining us.”

Alistiar sighed, shaking his head with a smile. “ _If_ my friend agrees, we’ll see you there.” He walked off, tucking the folded flier into his back pocket. He didn’t want to be late for his next rounds. “Now, all I have to do is convince Rean to go, _without_ Jasper. No problem, Alistair; none at all.”

 

                                (Later that evening)

“You’re inviting me to … _what_?” Regan laughed as she wedged her phone between her ear and shoulder. She had been in the middle of fixing dinner when Alistair called. Normally, she wouldn’t have even dreamed of answering the phone, but he was one of the few people she would actually willingly speak to over the phone. Normally, she preferred to stick with texting.

“Suicide karaoke,” he repeated, grinning at her laughter. That sound should _not_ make him this happy. “Zevran assures me that no one has ever actually committed suicide during _or_ after. And you don’t even have to sing, if you don’t want to. I just thought, maybe …. I dunno.”

She smiled into the phone and flopped into her favorite chair, sinking into the pillowy cushion. “Have you been talking to my sister-in-law? I bet the two of you have been conspiring against me.” She interrupted his sputtered protests with a laugh. “I’m _kidding_. It’s just that Oriana was _just_ telling me this morning that I need to go out more. Maybe this is a sign.” She closed her eyes and thought a moment. She would be without Jasper … but surely it was still safe, right? Nothing in this club, wherever it was, would be likely to trigger any issues. “Alright, I’ll go. But I make no promises about how long I’ll stay. Do you want to ride together?”

“I’ll drive this time,” Alistair offered, biting back unexpected elation. As much as he wasn’t overjoyed to go to this thing with Zevran, at least he would have company he knew he liked. He wondered who all the Antivan had actually managed to convince to go.

“It’s a date. I’ll meet you outside your apartment at … what time?” Regan pushed herself out of her chair as the oven timer went off and Alistair decided on a time. “Alright, I’ll meet you at seven in front of your door. Strangely, I’m kind of looking forward to this.” She hung up after cheerful goodbyes, scooped up some of the chicken pasta dish and sighed. “Oriana would have a ball with this.”

                                (Friday night, at the bar/club/karaoke joint)

“And then, she goes into the kitchen and finds the bags from that Antivan restaurant downtown … in the trash.” Alistair sighed, burying his face in his hands. Why was he telling _this_ story again?

“You didn’t get rid of the evidence?” Daveth smirked, shaking his head. “Should have known you’d find a way to botch impressing a pretty girl.”

Regan glanced over, saw Alistair’s cheeks and ears turning red, embarrassment heavy in his expression. She pursed her lips before leaning in. “I was _quite_ impressed, thank you very much.” She reached over, patted her friend on the arm. “I’ve never had someone go through _that_ much effort when he didn’t need to. Besides, he never actually _claimed_ to have cooked it.” She straightened up, pointed at Daveth and smirked. “Don’t see any girls, pretty _or_ otherwise, coming with you, hmm?” This wasn’t like her, not really. Since when did she joke around at a table full of people? She hadn’t done this … done anything _like_ this in … since … since her parents died.

Alistair noticed a brief flash of melancholy before it became hidden by a teasing smile again. He’d been watching her since she spoke up to defend him, wondering if what she had said was true, or merely for the table’s benefit. He’d hated how stupid he’d felt for leaving the bags Teagan had brought over that first night out in the open. But she’d just smiled when she saw them, said it tasted divine and promised to pay for their next meal. That wasn’t _bad_ , right?

“You OK?” He leaned over to whisper, check on her. He didn’t think anyone else had noticed; most of their attention had moved on to two women strolling through the tables to reach the stage. He could see why; both women were attractive. The red-head wore an earthy green dress that was skin tight until it flared at her hips, with heels that would kill a normal person. Her pale skin practically glowed under the lights. Her partner, a dark-skinned brunette, had opted for a white spaghetti-strap tank and what looked like a black leather skirt, with near thigh-high boots. He could practically hear Daveth salivating.

“I’m … I’m fine,” Regan whispered in response. “It’s … just been a while since I’ve gone anywhere with anyone other than Jasper.” She grinned, trying to remind herself that she was out to have fun, relax, _not_ think about what was in the past. She flipped through the book of songs, scribbling various titles down. “You gonna put your name in?”

“I … um,” Alistair gulped slightly. He was an okay singer … nothing spectacular, if he knew the song. But there were a _lot_ of songs in their book that he didn’t know. The idea of being in front of this many people and failing miserably gave him pause. “I … think I might just sit this one out. You?”

Zevran turned to grin at the pair, shaking his head. “Afraid not, my dear Alistair; e _veryone_ must put their name in, at least once. A … rule of the table, if you will – one name, one song; more if you wish. But you must submit a song for each time you submit a name – yours, or someone else’s.” He glanced at the young woman at Alistair’s side and let his grin slip into a more sensuous smile. “Even our dear newcomer … Regan, was it?” When she slowly nodded, he went on. “Even our lovely Regan must play by the rules – one entry.”

Regan froze as everyone’s eyes turned toward her. Daveth, Jory, Taliesen, and Zevran all seemed to be amused at her sudden … not discomfort, exactly, but certainly surprise. Alistair was the only one who seemed concerned for her comfort levels, reaching out to touch the back of her hand. Considering he was the one who’d invited her in the first place, she supposed his concern made sense.

Alistair started to stammer, to insist that _she_ , at least, didn’t have to join in. He’d promised her she wouldn’t _have_ to sing, for Andraste’s sake! He started to tell Zevran that she most certainly did not have to sing; and if he insisted, they would leave right now. He started to, but she interrupted.

“I’ll do it … _once_.” She glanced over at Alistair before turning to damn near glare at Zevran. “I will put my name in … _once,_ and only once, _if_ Alistair does the same. And if I find out _any_ of you threw mine, or his, name in, there _will_ be hell to pay.”

Alistair hid a laugh, lifting his soda to at least pretend to drink. He’d never seen _any_ woman threaten Zevran … not with bodily harm, anyway. Most women he knew seemed to eat up whatever attention the Antivan gave them. But now, they were all looking expectantly at him. She would go up if he did. Pity they couldn’t just go up together. He set his glass down and looked at her. “Are you … are you sure?” He wondered which answer he would get, and which he’d actually prefer.

“I ….” Regan sighed, doing her best to ignore the intent stares of the others. She’d gone out to have fun, right? This _might_ be fun, depending on the song she got stuck with. “I think I’ll need a drink, but … yeah. You?”

Alistair nodded, chewing on his cheek as he smiled. Maybe he could flood the song bucket with things he _knew_ he could sing. The roving waitress was all the way at the other end of the room, so he scooted out from the table and headed to the bar, thankful for the momentary lull that had occurred while Nightingale and ‘Bela gave the crowd the rules and collected the necessary slips. He managed to return to the table with a soda for himself and a beer for her just in time to see Zevran throw a handful of slips into the name bucket while Taliesen deposited another handful into the song bucket. “I, um … didn’t know what you wanted so … I just kind of … guessed?” He held the beer bottle out to her, having chosen this particular brand based on her drink of choice most Friday nights when they were in each other’s apartments.

“I suppose it’ll do,” she replied with a grin, leaning over to kiss his cheek before nervously watching the two women start the … entertainment. “I just hope I get a song I actually know.” She leaned against Alistair, watching as Jory got called up to sing some song she’d never heard of by one of those girl groups that was popular about five years ago. She could feel Alistair trying to hold back giggles as their companion muddled his way through high notes and lyrics about stupid boys, and when Jory returned to the table, she commiserated with him about the fact that neither had ever heard that song before while they watched the next few strangers sing songs to varying degrees of success. Then, it was Zevran’s turn.

Alistair snickered, expecting … _hoping_ … the Antivan would get a song he’d never heard of, or one with such embarrassing lyrics that he would never insist on such a thing again. What he got, however, was Zevran singing You Can Leave Your Hat On, a song that seemed to fit him far too well, to _Regan_! Alistair struggled to keep protective instincts he didn’t know he had under control … or, what he assumed were protective instincts, anyway; what else could they be? Whatever they were, he tried to keep calm as Zevran’s hips swayed, voice rolled over the room like silk, body practically wove in front of … almost around her.

Regan flushed, a tight smile on her face and a tighter grip on her chair the only signs that she was uncomfortable as the Antivan spun her chair to face him. She didn’t think he’d _do_ anything, but the sudden closeness of a relative stranger was almost more than she could take. Even knowing Alistair was there … someone she _trusted_ wasn’t enough; she didn’t relax again until the song was over and Zevran had returned to his seat and the crowd was cheering.

She didn’t get much of a reprieve, unfortunately. The next singer drawn was _her_! Nervously, Regan headed for the stage, clutching her beer bottle in one hand. She wasn’t sure what was worse – the prospect of singing in general or the prospect of singing in _front_ of people. She fidgeted on stage as she waited for the women to announce the song, or at least show her the slip, but they didn’t.

“Well, Nightingale, it looks like we drew a duet.”

“Should one of us sing with our nervous songbird, ‘Bela?”

Regan gulped as the two women looked her over, her mind urging her to sprint for the door as the one called ‘Bela came to stand beside her, arm draping over her shoulder.

Alistair started to rise, wanting to run to her rescue. It was _his_ fault they were there at all … his fault _she_ was there, now so obviously uncomfortable. He flashed a glare at Zevran, turning back to the stage just in time to see Regan shake her head and mouth that she was OK. He remained half out of his seat, not entirely convinced, until she gave him a nervous smile. He would _seriously_ have to find a way to apologize, somehow, when this was all over … _if_ she still wanted to hang out with him. He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t.

“Well, then … let’s see.” Nightingale reached a pale hand into the bowl holding the prospective singers and drew another slip. With a smile, she glanced at her partner and the young woman, then out at the crowd. “We need … Vaughan to come up and join Miss Regan here for … what was the song, ‘Bela?”

‘Bela grinned, gave the girl an encouraging hip-bump … well, Regan assumed it was meant to be encouraging, as a sandy-haired man stood and made his way to the stage. “Close My Eyes Forever,” she replied. “One of the better duets in our book, I would say.” She handed Regan a mike and strolled off, heading toward the table Regan had just vacated … and Zevran.

She saw familiar green eyes and a warm smile first, nerves giving way to surprised recognition as she realized who it was.   “Vaughan?” Regan squeaked, holding the microphone as far away as she could before wrapping her arms around him. “What are _you_ doing here?” She forgot that everyone was watching them for the moment, glad to see an old friend.

“After the song,” he hissed, hugging her quickly. “I promise.” He grinned as the expression on her face drifted back to the near terrified, turned her to face the crowd … and the screen, and took a breath, nudging her gently when the song started and her cue slipped past.

_“Baby, I get so scared inside and I don’t really understand …. Is it love that’s on my mind or is it fantasy?”_

Alistair stared as she embraced the … well, he _thought_ the man had been a stranger, but apparently he was wrong. He ignored the confused glances from his coworkers, instead choosing to focus on _her_ … her voice, her singing. She sounded … different than she did in the car. Maybe it was because she was singing softly, making an effort not to come across too loud over the microphone, whereas in the car with her windows down, she just didn’t care.

Her voice was shaky over the first few words. She knew it, could hear the waver as she started half a second too late. But she recovered, thankful for a song, and a partner, she knew well. She hadn’t known Vaughan could sing, though. Growing up it, it was never something he had shown any interest in, let alone talent for. But here he was, next to her, watching … smiling … _singing_ one of her favorite songs with her. And he sounded _good_.

“I thought you two were … together?” Taliesin nudged Alistair, raising a brow. The way the pair had shown up, arm-in-arm, the way they put their heads together to whisper amongst themselves, the shy glances and kisses on the cheek …. That was all more than friends-type stuff, wasn’t it?

Alistair was surprised to feel a knot in his stomach as he watched the two sing. Though they had started out facing the audience, somewhere in the middle of the song, they had turned to face each other and never looked back. “We’re … neighbors.” He spoke softly, slowly, mind not totally on the conversation. “Friends, that’s it. We both just … just needed to … to get out a little.” She looked like she was having fun up there, finally calming down. So why did he suddenly regret inviting her? Why did he suddenly regret coming at all?

_“Close your eyes …. You gotta close your eyes for me ….”_

Alistair wanted to disappear. The stranger had sounded amazing, his voice a rich tone that shouldn’t have sounded so good singing _that_ song. He didn’t see her point at their table, his friends, _him_ as he stewed, contemplating just getting up and walking out. Nobody would notice, right? He didn’t see her leading the man toward the table, didn’t see her smiling, holding the man’s hand like she hadn’t a care …..

“… friends. Um, Alistair?”

He blinked, looked up to find her in front of him, flushed. He could hear the others snickering and shook his head. “Sorry, I, um … I guess the soda’s not doing its job. Must be getting tired.” He watched her smile falter, rushing to say that he didn’t want to leave when she asked. “So, who’s this again?”

She eyed him carefully, as if she didn’t quite believe him before glancing back at her companion. “This is Vaughan; I’ve known his family for ages. He and Fergus grew up together and let me run around with them as soon as I could keep up.” She waited a beat while everyone said hello, then smiled. “Now, I just met a couple … well, m _ost_ of them tonight, so I _may_ get the names wrong, but … this is Jory, Daveth, Zevran, Taliesin, and Alistair.” She pointed to each man in turn, smiling shyly when she finally got to Alistair, ears slightly going pink.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” Vaughan gave a quick nod before leaning over. “You really should come say hello to your brother … and congratulate Dairren. We’ll all be heading back to Highever in the morning.” He slid an arm around her waist and nudged her toward the table he was sharing with some of their other friends.

She looked over at Alistair and half-smiled. “Give me a couple minutes to go say hi to everyone, and then we can go, OK?” It widened into a bright smile as he nodded; she ignored his stammered declaration that they didn’t _have_ to leave, and let her friend guide her to the other table.

Alistair tried to carry on a conversation with the others, but found it very difficult to concentrate on anything anyone was saying. His mind kept wandering to things he didn’t understand. He knew he _liked_ spending time with her, and that she liked hanging out with him. He just didn’t know why her spending time with this Vaughan bothered him, why seeing the man hold her like that, guide her away like he had some say over where she went and what she did made his stomach knot. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear his name being called until Taliesin nudged him. “Wha?”

“Get up there, idiot. Impress her.”

Alistair stumbled toward the stage after being shoved by … someone, wondering why he even bothered … why he needed to impress anyone; it didn’t matter. He took a second to breathe, then looked at the slip of paper with the song title. It was _her_ handwriting. It was a song _she_ picked out, one she liked. He remembered her playing it in the car a few times when they would run out to grab food. And it was a song he _knew_. “Maker, please don’t let me screw this up,” he muttered. Then the music started.

_“Lonely sidewalks … silent nights ….”_

Regan looked up when she heard the familiar chords, grinned hugely when she saw who was singing and made this happy little ‘meep’ noise when she heard his voice. She gave her brother another quick hug, said “Congrats” to Dairren once more and promised to come visit soon, then sped back over to her chair, turning it around so that she could straddle the seat, arms resting on the chair back. She hadn’t been aware he could sing so well – in the car, they both kind of just … didn’t pay attention to how they sounded. Hearing him sing a song she liked well enough to put in the drawing made her happier than she expected.

He risked a glance up, first to where she had been, and didn’t see her. That small knot started forming again until he looked at _their_ table, and there she was, watching him, mouthing the words right along with him. She looked so … happy that he stumbled over the last part of the verse he was on, causing his ears to go pink. But the chorus got him back on track. He didn’t care that his friends would no doubt tease him relentlessly when he returned to the table, as long as _she_ liked it.

_“Love is on the way, I can see it in your eyes. Let’s give it one more try tonight, baby ….”_

Regan erupted into cheers as his voice trailed off on the final word, soon to be joined by the rest of the room. Without thinking, she threw her arms around him as soon as he reached the table. “That was _amazing_!” She brushed her lips against his cheek and damn near pulled him into her lap when she sat back down before scooting over so he could take a seat as well. “You ready to head back, or have you woken up?”

“Might be a good idea to head back soon,” he admitted, ignoring the smirks from the others. He knew his ears and the back of his neck were pink, cheeks too most likely. He stood, grinning like an idiot when she wrapped her arms around his and rested her head on his shoulder. They made their farewells and wove their way out of the bar, laughing and chatting about possibly doing that again, maybe when it _wasn’t_ the suicide version. Neither paid attention to several pairs of eyes watching them leave.

**Author's Note:**

> As unbelievable as it sounds, a lot of this has happened at one time or another to myself or people I know. I've never done suicide karaoke this way, but it makes more sense to me than allowing your friends to decide your song. Leaving it up to fate is more ... fun ... in my opinion.  
> And yes, I KNOW the type of person Vaughan is in the game. I have this feeling that he put on an act around people who he feels could further his goals or help him, and as one of the wealthier families in Thedas, the Couslands could certainly do that. So for now, he's considered a friend (they only saw him during the summers). Trust me, that WILL change at some point.


End file.
